


my heart feels like a ghost (don't die)

by chasing_moonlit_smoke747 (orangeink)



Category: Joker Game (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 07:20:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11641692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeink/pseuds/chasing_moonlit_smoke747
Summary: Lieutenant Bauer never forgot about the spy that was skewered to death in a freak train accident.  The spy who somehow managed to remain calm even as his lifeblood spurted out in hot streams, dripping down down down his chest, cut so deep the crimson oozed black in the end.  The spy who neighbors called impossibly handsomer in death, his pale ghost face serene.. . . In which Lieutenant Bauer goes to honor an enemy, and learns that perhaps monsters still have lessons to teach him.





	my heart feels like a ghost (don't die)

**Author's Note:**

> I love Joker Game, especially its noir vibe. But I could not condone the end of Episode 11. I live in a constant state of denial, and as a result, this was born. (Although I have to admit part of the reason I wrote this is because my headcanon states Lieutenant Bauer is a darling little lamb with a bit of an unrequited crush on Miyoshi. Take care when you play with fire, kiddo.) 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoy my little foray into this fandom!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Joker Game, and part of the title belongs to Follow You by Bring Me the Horizon.

**my heart feels like a ghost (don’t die)**

_The only real equality is found in the cemetery._ (German proverb)

Lieutenant Bauer never forgot about the spy that was skewered to death in a freak train accident. The spy who somehow managed to remain calm even as his lifeblood spurted out in hot streams, dripping down down down his chest, cut so deep the crimson oozed black in the end. The spy who neighbors called impossibly handsomer in death, his pale ghost face serene.

A spot of red on his starched collar. Glassy eyes that stared up at the ceiling one day; eyes that were brushed closed the next morning. Nothing but one last hint of respect to a fallen fighter and the tattered remains of the crimson-stained collar to hint that even in death, the spy and his ilk had managed to outsmart Colonel Wolff.

Lieutenant Bauer would never forget the lesson his first brush with espionage (albeit postmortem) had taught him: Spies were clever.

And if all spies faced death with the same graceful poise as the man on the train, then they had to be monsters.

War brewed on the horizon. These days, Lieutenant Bauer discovered he could appreciate monsters. Even go so far as to honor them, regardless if they had been enemy spies.

That is why he lingered after the wake walked away from the gravesite. Five people buried at once in simple wooden coffins. But only one that he cared to see.

Pulling his coat tighter around himself to stave off the bitter winter chill nipping at him through the many woolen layers he wore, Lieutenant Bauer wound his way through gravestones until his boots sank into freshly-turned earth.

Staring down at the false name of the clever Japanese spy engraved on an unassuming slab of stone, a chill unassociated with the temperature shuddered down his spine.

Beneath his feet in a box was the body of a man he had seen only yesterday. No matter how clever the spy had been, the fact remained that even he had been unable to cheat death.

A humbling thought. As his grandfather used to say, the only real equality was found in the cemetery.

“A pity,” the words escaped him in a gusted sigh that sent breath billowing up into the winter air. The Lieutenant mentally kicked himself, because even that much of a slip was dangerous. The Gestapo were always watching. He finished the sentence in his head nonetheless: _I think I would have liked to meet you._

“It really is,” a voice at his shoulder caught him off guard. Whipping his head around, the Lieutenant found himself staring at a pair of dark blue eyes. “A pity he died so young.”

Recalling the lessons he had learned in the past few days about spy networks, paranoia made Lieutenant Bauer’s heartrate kick up a notch. Only years of military discipline and the ever-lingering threat of Colonel Wolff’s disapproval if he lost a lead to capturing the notorious Maki allowed him to keep his face politely blank and his words steady: “Did you know the deceased?”

“No,” the other man replied. He was of the same height as Lieutenant Bauer himself, perhaps a few centimeters taller. His navy eyes were set under heavy brows in a square-jawed, handsome face. “He sold me some art, once. I was passing through town today and dropped by to see if he had anything of interest on hand. The soldiers guarding his apartment told me he had died. He was a good business partner. I figured the least I could do was come pay my respects.”

There was a slightly foreign lilt to the words, but Lieutenant Bauer could not pinpoint the accent. Combined with the man’s complexion, he would have though the man a foreigner if not for his height, dirty blond hair, and blue eyes.

_Perhaps he is only half-German_ , the Lieutenant mused. He recognized something military in the way the man held himself, all straight lines and shoulders back. The familiarity drained some of the tension from Lieutenant Bauer’s shoulders. He dismissed the stranger as a threat. “Yes, I have heard he was quite the prolific art dealer. What did you buy from him?”

The stranger’s face was solemn, chiseled in a way that could have been carved from marble, but humor warmed his navy eyes. His mouth twisted with curious emotion as he replied, “It was a nostalgic piece. He told me of its history, and I couldn’t help but be intrigued. It was with his assistance that I learned some art is to be respected perhaps more than other art.”

“I am glad to hear he was a fair businessman, if nothing else,” Lieutenant Bauer said.

The stranger raised an eyebrow, but the Lieutenant merely shook his head. “Don’t mind me. It is wrong to speak ill of the dead, and from my understanding he was quite brilliant. Please excuse me, I must return to work. _Guten tag_ , sir.”

“And to you, Lieutenant,” the stranger nodded before turning his attention to the headstone of the Japanese spy.

Lieutenant Bauer left the man standing at the grave just as the weak winter sun sank below the horizon. The sky bled a gentler crimson than the color that had stained the spy’s clothes.

The Lieutenant went to bed that night with a peculiar weight settled on his heart.

**** ****

He sat bolt upright several hours later, his mind racing.

The stranger had called him ‘Lieutenant’ despite the fact he had never introduced himself.

Stomach churning, Lieutenant Bauer swore and threw himself out of bed.

He arrived at the cemetery around half past two in the morning. Panting, he skidded to a stop in front of the five graves dug yesterday. Soil was fresh in front of all the headstones, but his keen blue eyes detected the earth covering the spy’s coffin was slightly darker than the rest.

Cursing again, Lieutenant Bauer strode forward. The plummeting temperature should have frozen the ground in the hours since the funeral, but the soles of his thick boots sank at least three centimeters into the earth.

“ _Verdammt!_ ” the Lieutenant snarled at the stars. He went to fetch the groundskeeper.

Dawn spilled red back into the sky by the time they unearthed the spy’s coffin. Lieutenant Bauer grimly tossed his shovel aside and pried open the lid. The groundskeeper ceased grumbling about being roused at ungodly hours and gave an unholy shriek.

Rose petals outlined a depression in the white fabric lining the coffin. As Lieutenant Bauer had feared, the spy’s body was nowhere to be found.

Grinding his teeth together, the Lieutenant collared the panicking groundskeeper and sent him to deliver a summons to Army Headquarters.

Colonel Wolff would surely want to be made aware of this latest development.

**** ****

When he saw the empty coffin, the Colonel’s faced flushed an unhealthy shade of red.

“Damn you, Maki,” he rasped. Then he turned to his subordinate. Lieutenant Bauer gazed back with bloodshot eyes. “Get to work.”

“Yes, sir,” the Lieutenant saluted crisply and marched away.

**** ****

After a week of investigation, a man matching the stranger’s description was traced from his entrance into the country under the name Isamu Jun. According to a wide-eyed, harried translator, the names meant ‘courage’ and ‘obedience.’

_How fitting_ , Lieutenant Bauer thought sourly.

Isamu Jun spent less than forty-eight hours in Germany, taking a train from the border to Berlin. A local shopkeeper said he had bought a shovel to combat the heavy snowfall. The shovel was found covered in graveyard dirt three streets away from the cemetery.

According to witnesses, Isamu Jun boarded a train bound for Italy in the early hours of the morning after the grave robbery. He was accompanied by a pale, handsome man with burgundy eyes and fashionably-cut hair.

When shown a picture of the deceased spy, witnesses identified him as the very same man who had been seen alongside Isamu Jun.

Once the two men reached the border with Italy, their trail vanished like smoke in the wind.

“Remember this, Lieutenant,” Colonel Wolff growled. “The man you met was likely a handler trained by Maki himself. If you meet him again, bring him to me alive. And if circumstances do not allow for that, put a bullet between his eyes. Burn the body.”

“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Bauer said. A blizzard swirled across the cemetery, wet snow sticking to the headstones and wiping away the names of the deceased.

_Perhaps_ , the Lieutenant thought, _the equality of cemeteries does not apply to monsters after all._

**** ****

Far away, somewhere along the Italian coast, a ghost smiled at the man who had disturbed his grave.

“Well done, Lieutenant. It seems you have taken to D-Agency’s lessons quite well.”

“Save your breath, Miyoshi,” Sakuma responded in exasperation, carefully removing the blond wig and throwing it over the cliff into the waves crashing against the shore far below. “You are recovering from a mortal wound. You can tease me later, when simple sentences don’t make you wheeze.”

Miyoshi chuckled. His laughter devolved into rattling coughs, but to both men’s relief he did not cough up blood.

When Miyoshi was able to speak again, his tone was softer, sincerer, “Thank you, Sakuma-san. I did not enjoy being buried alive.”

“After all we’ve been through, it’s alright if you just call me Sakuma,” the Japanese Imperial Army Lieutenant huffed. He frowned, “That was too close.”

“I know,” Miyoshi sighed. “But war is coming. You know spies are only effective in peacetime. Our role is almost over.”

“Just try to take care of yourself. I’d rather not have to practice my German again for a long time.”

Miyoshi smiled, “Even I can’t see the future, Lieutenant. How am I supposed to predict and avoid freak accidents like that train wreck?”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out while you recover,” Sakuma said. Navy gaze met burgundy, “Don’t you remember D-Agency’s rules, Miyoshi?”

“Of course. _Don’t kill_ , but more importantly—”

Their voices rang out in unison, “ _Don’t die_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Also, Sakuma is an adorable, noble grump and I wanted to see more of him in the series. He and Miyoshi have a lovely dynamic.
> 
> Let me know what you thought! I wasn't sure if I should add another line or two at the end.
> 
> Ciao~!


End file.
